


Ink on a Page

by Ellunar Eclipse (mind_is_a_prison)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anxiety, Bad Thoughts, Bella is big dumb, Big dumb, Blood and Gore, Death, Depression, Drama, Fire, Flash Fiction, Guns, Gunshot Wounds, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Literally Anything I Feel Like Writing, Multi, Murder, Noose, North is Nonbinary, Off-screen stabbing, Pretty Random But Always Dark, Psychopathology & Sociopathy, Romance, Violence, Voodoo, Why?, cult shit, like i said, why the fuck not?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:48:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 6,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23461942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mind_is_a_prison/pseuds/Ellunar%20Eclipse
Summary: From Victorian Era murders to suicidal teens, this collection of short stories is darker than the empty abyss of space, but just as deadly. Feel free to read if you're looking for a twisted way to spend your free time and rot your mind with ruinous thoughts of death and revenge and violence. Not made for kids, but what you do with your time is not for me to decide. Enjoy at your own risk.
Relationships: Eliza Wood/Collin Berkley, North Prythio & Bella Prythio
Kudos: 4





	1. The Give and Take

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to a glimpse inside my tiny twisted mind! All the stories you read are written by me with my own ideas, so things can get a little weird, a little dark, and maybe even a little bloody, so read at your own risk. I'm not even sure who's going to be reading this, as I'm not really well-known on this platform yet, but whoever you are... thanks? You're weird, but thanks...? Enjoy I guess!
> 
> ~Eclipse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's start out easy. DRAMA!

He had been blabbering on about all his plans for the summer for two hours now, and none of them included her. She supposed that she couldn’t blame him, after all, he was so very excited about his trip to Europe, and she didn’t have much to say anyway. She listened quietly with the patience of a saint, offering him ideas and suggestions when it felt proper, but just as content to sit back and let him speak. He was so ecstatic that he barely touched his food, but his eyes never once met hers. His attention was directed solely on the words coming from his mouth and the sound of his own voice.

A part of her wanted to break him from his dreamy trance so they could enjoy their evening together. It wouldn’t have been hard. A few well-spoken words of anger, a slight edge in her voice, and a quick, sharp smack on the table before her and she would have gotten his attention in two seconds flat. But she knew she wouldn’t do that to him, couldn’t do that to him. He was so happy, talking about this and that with an energy that she hadn’t seen in him before. And if he was happy, she was happy… right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's short and not nearly as interesting as you would expect, but stick with me! Things get darker and more twisted as we go. Just you wait.
> 
> ~Eclipse


	2. Promises Unborn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ouch.

“I can’t believe you did that!” I yelled, my voice thundering in our small, cramped apartment.

Carmen flinched back, her eyes wide and her face as pale as the snow drifting outside their window. “I… I didn’t know what else to do.”

“What the hell made you think that killing them was the answer?!”

“I… I was afraid,” she whispered, her eyes filling with tears.

“Afraid of what? What could have possibly been going through your mind to make you do something so stupid and horrible?”

Carmen sank onto the rickety bed and wrapped her arms around her stomach, trembling from more than just the cold. I stood over her, my face red from yelling and my hands shaking with the will it took to keep from smacking her across the face. I watched as Carmen slowly, quietly shook her head, unable to speak for a moment. As I gazed at my shivering wife, I felt all the anger slowly escape until all I felt was a frigid, empty numbness.

“Why, Carmen? That was our child. Our beautiful, precious, unborn child. How could you do that to them, to me, and never let me know?”

“I’m sorry,” she sobbed, “I’m so sorry.”

That was three months ago, when she aborted our child without my knowledge or consent. I never got to say goodbye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one wasn't awful long, but some of the ones coming up are a bit lengthier and have more substance. We get progressively darker as things go on, so for those who have stuck with me so far, thank you and be prepared.
> 
> ~Eclipse


	3. August 18th, 2020

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **TRIGGER WARNING!** Double check the tags above and make sure you're okay with whatever you might be reading. Stay safe and I love you guys.

The girl sits on the carpeted floor surrounded by an arc of colorful legos. In her hand she holds the beginnings of her next lego creation that she has mapped out in her head. Her room is a mess of clothes piled in the corner of her room, legos scattered in every direction, and crumpled up pages of letters she had begun to write, but scrapped halfway through. On one side of her room sits a lone chair with a length of rope lying on its seat. She glances around before turning to her sister, Emily, and asking her to hand her the box of grey legos. Emily complies without complaint before turning back to her own project. The girl is unsure what her sister is working on, but it looks impressive.

Footsteps pass by the door and continue down the stairway nearby, causing Emily to glance up from her intense focus. They hear the soft tumbling of the dryer in the room next door fill the easy silence that once existed between them. The girl finally gets a close look at the sculpture that her sister was creating. It is Heaven, with golden light beaming everywhere and pearly gates leading to puffy white clouds with angels sitting atop them, playing the harp and serenading God, who sits upon a golden throne. It is a beautiful display, far more elaborate than anything the girl could have come up with, and she opens her mouth to tell the older girl so.

“Alyssa, can you do a favor for me? The dogs really need to go for a walk,” requests her mother, peeking in the room with a basket full of clean clothes balancing on her hip.

The girl glances to the chair for a moment and nods quietly. Her mother smiles and leaves. She glances to her sister, finding that Emily has vanished, leaving the lego Heaven behind as the only evidence that she had been there at all.

“It was nice to see you again, Em. Tell God I said hi.”

Then the girl stands and gets to her feet, leaving her own lego masterpiece on the floor next to Emily’s. If anyone had been there to witness it, they would have seen a lego graveyard sitting next to lego Heaven, one lone gravestone peeking up from atop a hill, and a little lego girl kneeling in front of it, the name ‘EMILY’ carved into the stone. And beside it was an open grave holding an empty coffin, this one, too, bearing a name etched into the stone: ALYSSA, May 17th, 2008 - August 18th, 2020.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **NOTE:** Suicide is _never_ the answer. Please, if you are feeling suicidal at any point in time, seek help from friends or loved ones. There's always a better way. You are loved and appreciated and needed. Never forget that. I love you guys. Stay safe and keep your chin up. Things do get better.
> 
> ~Eclipse


	4. The Girl in the Coffin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh no! My evil side is showing! Welp... have fun.

The boy stands next to the coffin, the pouring rain pounding against him from every angle. He doesn’t care. He stands and watches the people walk up and whisper condolences and well-wishes. He offers smiles in return. They walk away. The cycle repeats. Another gust of wind breezes through, sending a few of the women’s large black hats across the field. He stifles a laugh. It’s funny.

He watches as a small child walks up to the coffin and places a hand on it hesitantly. She whispers that she misses the girl in the coffin, and that she’ll never forget her. She leaves. The boy stifles another chuckle. It’s funny.

A young couple are next, making their way across the field. The woman’s frame is tall and slim, like a lamppost. She leans against the man for support, as if she might blow away any moment. His hand is firmly wrapped around her waist. The boy watches them come with a slight smile teasing at the corners of his lips, but he forces his mouth into a taunt, thin line to mask it. The couple takes his hand and murmurs that the girl in the coffin’s death was a horrible tragedy. They apologize for his loss. They tell him that things will get better. He looks away to keep from laughing. They walk away. It’s funny.

He can hear the mutters stirring around the field as more and more people come and talk to the coffin, or to him, or both. They’re whispering about the death of the girl in the coffin, gossiping as only humans do.

“I heard she was found in her bedroom, lying on the floor, barely breathing,” one old woman whispers, the rain dripping off her large black hat that the wind had yet to steal.

“Well, I heard that she was found in the bathroom, already dead and gone when they arrived,” a man counters, his thin wiry hair pasted to his balding head by the rain.

“Do you know how she died? I haven’t heard.”

“Stabbed to death, they say. Bled out in a matter of minutes.”

“How absolutely dreadful! The poor dear. She had her whole life ahead of her.”

The boy listens to them talk and stifles a laugh. It’s funny, listening to them wonder and gossip and pretend to be adults. They are so grown up, so mature. They say all the right things and do all that is expected of them. They wear black to the funeral, say their goodbyes to the girl in the coffin, offer condolences to the family, encourage the friends, all of the things they are supposed to do. And they feel so good about themselves, as if their words and actions meant anything to the boy. Their talk was nothing, just empty words without meaning or reason. They thought that they were doing the absolute most, but they weren’t doing anything at all. It’s funny. The boy feels the pocket of his black slacks for the knife, still stained with the blood of the girl in the coffin. It’s funny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for taking the time to read this! It's honestly just stuff I wrote for fun, so it's fine if you don't really like it or you don't want to read it, but for those of you who are enjoying this short flash fiction pieces, thank you! I appreciate all the support you guys provide and I hope you like the rest of the stories I add to this collection. Thank you!
> 
> ~Eclipse


	5. Eliza Didn't Belong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My longest one yet, and also quite possibly one of my best. Enjoy!

Girls in elegant dresses sweeping by, caught up in the arms of dashing young men with clean-shaven faces and neatly pressed suits. The sweet lilt of music drifted on the air as the band began its next piece. A table that seemed to go on forever, its face covered in a wide array of dishes and treats, each more mouthwatering than the last. Those were all sights that graced the eyes of Eliza Wood from where she stood on the edge of the ballroom, her head turning to and fro as she struggled to take in all the glorious splendor and beauty that surrounded her. She had never been to a ball so exquisite, and she still couldn’t believe that she of all people had been invited to attend such a fanciful display.

Eliza glanced down at her dress, which was a purple in hue and quite pretty in its own right, then to the bedazzled bodices and glittering trains that swirled around the dance floor and sighed. 

She didn’t belong there, that she knew to be a fact. Her family wasn’t poor by any means, but they weren’t rich either, and this event was the party of the year, of the decade even. Eliza was still unsure why Marcus Trendall invited her to the Autumn Harvest Ball, but when he had placed the invitation in her hand a week prior, she couldn’t deny that butterflies had danced furiously in her stomach and she had practically screamed at the sight. It was the first time she had ever been invited to something so grand, and there was no way she would ever turn down the opportunity, or so she had thought.

But now that she was there, Eliza was having second thoughts. It was true that the estate they were visiting was gorgeous, and the music was so beautiful it brought tears to the eyes of everyone listening. It was true that the food was the finest cuisine imported from foreign lands, and the hosts were kind, wonderful people. But it was also true that Eliza didn’t belong there. She didn’t belong, and she had no idea what she was doing. 

She had been standing along the edge of the ballroom for nearly an hour now, watching the swirling of skirts and the drifting of feet from a distance, unsure how to bridge that gap. She watched as other girls were approached by dark, handsome gentlemen to ask for a dance, and she had envied them and the light blush filling their cheeks, their demure smiles as they shyly offered out a hand. She wanted to be them so badly, to have the attention of everyone in the room, to have suitors fighting over her for a dance, a moment alone, a walk through the garden, the touch of her hand. But she never received any of that. Eliza didn’t belong.

She kept telling herself that it was fine, kept reminding herself that even if she didn’t get to dance, she would still have memories of the ball and all that she witnessed. Eliza would still be able to come home to her family, anxiously awaiting the tales of her night of luxury. Her sisters would still lay on her bed and watch her undo her hair and remove her makeup by the light of the candle sitting on her vanity as she told them about all she had seen and heard. She would share all the gossip she knew and dramatize her night for her sisters’ entertainment, watching as they gazed at her with unabashed awe and envy in equal measures. 

They would tell her how lucky she was and how much they wished they were old enough and pretty enough to attend the Autumn Harvest Ball, and while she didn’t necessarily feel lucky in this moment, Eliza knew she was. She had been invited to the biggest party that she would likely ever see, and all her complaining and bitter thoughts were selfish and ungrateful. She shook her head and walked over to the dessert table, deciding that she could at least dine on the delectable, decadent, elegantly arranged sweets that, even from a length away, smelled as delicious as they looked. Taking a bite of a truffle, Eliza closed her eyes and enjoyed the sweet, rich taste that seemed to melt in her mouth with every passing moment. It was likely the most heavenly thing she had ever tasted, and would ever taste, and she licked her lips as her eyes took in the other foods just waiting to be tasted, shoving aside a thought that had been plaguing her mind since she had arrived. It was such a simple thought, and it was, for all intents and purposes, true. Eliza didn’t belong.

As the band prepared for their next song, Eliza reached out to pick up a plate with a small sliver of rich chocolate cake resting utop it when she felt someone grab her other hand. She felt her heartbeat pick up to a much faster tempo at the firm grip around her wrist, which felt suffocatingly tight. Whirling around, Eliza found a young man in a dashing black suit smiling down at her.

“Collin,” she breathed, a relieved smile emerging like the sun from behind the clouds as her heartbeat began to speed up for a different reason.

“Eliza,” he murmured against her gloved hand as he brought it to his lips for a kiss.

“I did not realize you would be here, M’lord,” she curtsied low, bowing her head in respect and reverence.

He chuckled, his hand cupping her cheek and raising her face to meet his. Eliza’s breath trembled slightly when she realized how close he was standing to her, and how little effort it would take for Collin’s lips to meet her own.

“No need for such formalities, darling. It’s not as if there’s anyone around here you need to impress,” he said, his eyes sweeping the room in distaste, “The only person here that you need to worry about is me, and by now I believe we have moved past such pointless mannerisms, have we not?”

“O-of course, Collin,” Eliza managed, her throat going dry as she gazed into his rich brown eyes. She was certain that people had gotten lost in those eyes, like two infinitely deep pools that hid a world of secrets. She longed to dive into his eyes and explore them until she knew his every thought like it was her own.

His hand fell from her cheek and he took a slight step back, and Eliza carefully masked her expression to keep the disappointment from showing. She was being too forward, too needy, too desperate. She needed to get a grip and control herself. There was still plenty of time left. She would just have to be patient and see where the night went from here. 

“To answer your earlier question, I arrived home from Fairmont yesterday evening to find an invitation to the Autumn Harvest Ball sitting atop my desk. I had nothing else that required my attention, so I decided to grace the hosts with my presence for a moment, if only for the sake of politeness. I must say, I am rather disappointed in the manner of guests this year. It’s as if they have let anyone in here, no matter their status or birthright,” he tisked lightly, “What a shame. It’s quite unseemly, really.”

Eliza nodded in agreement quickly, eager to change the subject away from such matters, which always made her feel incredibly uncomfortable. It wasn’t as if Collin didn’t know her status. He knew she was a modest girl from a middle class family with no dowry or land to offer him, and yet he remained by her side. She knew that he loved her and would never leave her, but the topic still sent chills crawling up her spine and knots twisting in her stomach.

“But no matter,” Collin continued, turning towards Eliza with a slight grin on his face. “We have a whole evening to spend together, you and I. Would you care for a dance?”

Her heart leapt at the opportunity, and before she knew it Eliza’s hand was clasped firmly in between Collin’s warm fingers and he was leading her across the ballroom. Her face flushed a light pink when his hand went to her waist and they waltzed slowly along to the sweet music soaring above their heads. Eliza closed her eyes as she and her charming partner twirled and whirled this way and that, knowing that every girl standing along the outer edge of the ballroom was watching her and Collin with jealousy, longing, and spite. Breathing in the scent of her beloved’s expensive cologne, she couldn’t help but grin to herself. Eliza was the luckiest girl alive. Eliza did belong.

Once the dance had finished, Collin looked back at her with the mischievous, devilish grin that she knew and loved, and dragged her away from the ballroom and out into the enormous, elaborate garden that surrounded the estate on three sides. She laughed giddily as they raced down the halls and out the door, a feverish sort of happiness filling her to the brim until it felt as if it was overflowing and spilling onto the floor with every step. Collin’s own laugh, rich and dark and contagious, seemed to fill the very air as they strolled down the garden pathway, her hand tucked in the crook of her arm. This incredible, handsome, beautiful boy was hers and hers alone. She still couldn’t believe that someone as amazing as him had chosen her, a girl with nothing to offer him but all her love, her heart and soul. When she was with Collin, Eliza belonged.

As the pair walked along the garden trail, their voices rang out in the peaceful quiet, talking about this and that, everything and nothing at all with the ease of speaking to an old friend. Eliza noticed that her companion was becoming more and more quiet, and she glanced over at him in concern. His gaze wandered from one majestic sight to another, drinking in the rich, inexplicable beauty the garden provided, and Eliza couldn’t help the fond smile that teased at the corner of her lips at the sight. Collin had always adored the great outdoors. She didn’t know anyone who loved nature as much as he, and it was one of the things she admired most about him. His eyes flashed with something, either excitement or nervousness, every now and then, causing Eliza to giggle softly to herself. Seeing Collin so happy made her overcome with joy and love for the beautiful boy by her side. She just wanted to fall into his arms, be held by his strong, loving embrace, and never leave.

They reached a small clearing in the middle of the garden as the sun began to set, and Eliza rushed forward to take in the lush beauty of the green foliage and the enormous rose bushes that surrounded the small stone bench, all glowing in the faded reds and pinks and golds of the setting sun. Taking in a deep breath with her eyes closed, she felt her face become overtaken by a smile so big and real that it seemed unnatural. There was no reason for a girl like her to ever feel so happy. Eliza didn’t belong. She never had. But as she stood in the middle of the garden with the sun’s golden rays brushing her face, a cool breeze stirring her hair and the love of her life by her side, Eliza found that she didn’t really care whether she belonged or not. She was happy and loved and that was all that mattered.

Eliza turned towards Collin, her lips slightly parted to say something, but the words never managed to reach her tongue as she heard a loud noise thunder in her ears and felt something hit her in the chest. She doubled over, the impact alone enough to knock the breath from her lungs as a stab of pain tore through her. Pressing a hand to her chest, Eliza’s fingers came away slick with blood and trembling violently, and her eyes flickered up to Collin, who stood only a few feet away from her.  
In his hand rested a pistol, smoke still drifting from the barrel as his finger slowly released the trigger. His face was cloaked in shadows, the sun low enough that it was blocked by the hulking forms of the rose bushes that seemed to cage them in. Eliza opened her mouth to speak, although what she wanted to say even she was unsure, but the only thing that escaped was a small trickle of blood that spilled over her lips and trailed down her chin, dropping to the ground below and staining the blades of grass a vibrant red.

“C-Collin…?” Eliza choked out, her bloodstained hand reaching out to him beseechingly.

“I’m sorry Eliza. This is for your own good,” he said, his voice low and cold and merciless.

Cocking the gun back, he fired thrice more, two of the bullets entering her stomach and the third lodging itself in her shoulder. Collin watched as the girl he loved wavered on her feet, her face as pale as a cloud and her blood as red as rubies, before she fell to her knees. One arm was wrapped around her stomach, as if the motion alone would save her, while the other was still reaching out to her lover, silently begging him to save her. He watched silently, never once moving towards her, but not walking away either. He simply stood and watched. Eliza didn’t belong.

“Pp-please!” Eliza cried, tears spilling down her cheeks as she felt her vision become blurred and full of strange fuzzy black spots. “Help m-me!”

“I’m sorry,” was all he said in reply.

Eliza’s strength gave out on her and she tumbled forward, her face meeting the thick layer of grass below. It felt soft and warm beneath her, like a comfy pillow that she could easily fall asleep on, and she had the urge to close her eyes and do just that. The pain had all but faded now, only a dull, distant memory, much like the body that her spirit resided in. She was on the brink of losing consciousness, her mind fuzzy and her head seemingly stuffed with cotton, muffling all thoughts. Eliza was only slightly alert of footsteps approaching her and the dark figure kneeling beside her dying body. She was only slightly conscious of the warm hand that brushed her cool, pale cheek and the drop of water that hit her skin like a raindrop, or a tear. She was only barely aware of the lips that pressed against her temple in a tender goodbye kiss as her eyes slipped shut and her mind went numb, empty, blank, and her soul left her body with one last breath. As the dead girl was whisked away from the land of the living to somewhere new and exciting and mysterious, three words still echoed in her mind. Eliza didn’t belong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end of the flash fiction pieces I wrote ahead of time, and since I'm so busy working on my Sanders Sides piece, I don't know when I'll be adding to this collection next, so I hope you all are enjoying what I've written so far, and I'll update this... eventually. Sorry if it ends up being a while. I'll try to work on some new pieces soon. Until then, enjoy and take care! I love you guys!
> 
> ~Eclipse


	6. The Sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prophetic dreams? Nah. No way. Too cliche. I would never...
> 
> **unless**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did ya miss me? No? Not surprised. I'm honestly shocked anybody read these. I didn't think anyone would ever see them. So... thanks! I appreciate the support, even if it's just from a handful of people. It means a lot. Here's a little somethin' somethin' for you strange creatures who decided to read this mess. Enjoy!
> 
> ~Eclipse

The sun.

The sun is burning.

The sun is dying.

It burns bright red like a dying ember, weakly ending out flares of orange and gold, fighting for its life, for a last feeling moment before...

It's gone.

It was there only a moment ago, and now it's gone. It was so sudden, like the breath of a teenage girl blowing out a candle before heading to bed, or the sigh of a young boy after being told to come inside for the night. Unlike a candle, though, there was no wisp of smoke drifting through the air as the wick settled into sudden and complete dormancy. The sun was just gone, and there was no going back.

And then I woke up.

Sitting up with a groan, I stretched my arms over my head, yawning loudly. I felt my back pop into place, getting realigned from the fetal position I had apparently been sleeping in. Cracking my neck, I struggled to sit up, glancing at my clock to find that it was five in the goddamn morning, and I was exhausted as hell. _Fuck insomnia, man. All I wanted was to get some sleep. Is that really too much to ask?_

Forcing myself out of bed, I trudged downstairs where my roommate already had a fresh pot of coffee waiting for me. Grinning sleepily at the sight, I reminded myself to thank him the next time I saw him before promptly drinking straight from the pot. Once I had enough caffeine in me to keep from falling asleep standing up, I headed towards the pantry, searching for my favorite cereal. Pouring myself a bowl of Froot Loops, I drizzled the rest of the coffee on the cereal before reaching in the fridge and grabbing a Monster energy drink. Taking a sip, I headed upstairs, my precious cargo in tow, before flopping on my bed and turning on the TV. The news was blaring, and I reached for the remote with an annoyed grunt, but before I could switch the channel, I heard something that made me freeze in place.

_"In one month's time, the sun is going to die."_

"W-what...?" I whispered, sitting up slowly. I felt my heart begin to sink. _It's just a coincidence. Just a coincidence._

_"Signs of the sun's demise have been slowly growing, and scientists have been working around the clock to find a solution. They say that if the sun were to extinguish, it would cause a variety of disastrous consequences for the living beings occupying Earth. Some of the possible results of such an event are: the sudden death of all bird populations living on Earth due to solar radiation waves coming from the sun, the formation of a new Ice Age due to lack of head, and the creation of a black hole that would slowly destroy the entire Milkyway as a result of its powerful gravitational pull. Possible remedies for the situation include-"_

I tuned the news anchor out. I couldn't stand to listen anymore. It my head, all my dreams from the past week flashed before my mind. The sea of crows falling from their sky, their charred, blackened corpses hitting the pavement with a resounding _splat_. The icy whirlwind slowly covering ever square inch of the Earth in inch-thick ice. The Earth being slowly dragged into infinite darkness, lost in an endless abyss of time and space forever.


	7. A Body in the Pool

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Did you not see the title? Pretty self explanatory, my angstlings.

Pasty, white skin, tinged gray by the sun.  
Thin, parted lips tinted blue by the water.  
Large, glassy eyes staring sightlessly into the distance.  
Dark, curly hair floating lifelessly in the pool.  
Slim, pale fingers reaching out for help.  
Purple, faded bruises ringing a tiny, delicate neck.  
Thick, red blood congealing around impaled flesh.  
Thin, silky fabric wrapped around weak ankles.  
Sharp, silver knife sinking to the pool floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know its a poem and not a short story... but do I care? No. No I don't. Hope you enjoyed! Thanks for reading, my lovely little psychos! More angst and agony coming... eventually. XD
> 
> ~Eclipse


	8. Spiral

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The spiraling thoughts of a depressed person.

Darkness. Darkness swallowing me whole. Eating away at my sanity until I can't move, can't speak, can't breathe. The tears don't come, won't come, can't come. 

I feel myself slowly falling apart. I feel so lost. I'm so afraid. What might I do if things get worse? What might happen if I can't hold on? How long does self preservation last as your world is falling apart right before your eyes, shattering and crashing to the ground in a pile of rubble and broken glass?

I feel unstable. I am standing on shaky ground, on the edge of a cliff, and one wrong move will send me tumbling down into an endless abyss of despair and no return. 

Echoing in my mind is one question and one question alone: why? Why am I always on the verge of falling apart? Why am I always forcing a grin and fighting through the pain? Why am I scared of myself more than anything else in the world? Why can't things ever go as planned? Why is there so much suffering in the world? Why can't I just feel better? 

I just want to feel better. I want to be happy. I want to live, and love, and feel. I want to be normal. I just want the pain to be gone. I just need the pain to be gone. Please... 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all! Another random selection of writing that I felt like sharing. Don't worry, this was written a long time ago. I'm doing just fine. Hope you... enjoyed? Eh, whatever. I'll see you in the next installation of this depressing drivel of darkness and insanity.
> 
> ~Eclipse


	9. Black Candle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A mysterious bag full of creepy shit ends up in North's mailbox. They assume it's just a prank played by one of the neighborhood kids as a means to scare them. Little do they know, that bag will be the means of their undoing.

“What the hell is this?”

I blinked at the bag in disbelief from where it sat in my mailbox. It was clear, a ziplock bag, I assumed, although there was no branding on it, and inside was a variety of items that made my skin crawl. Reaching in, I gripped the bag between two fingers before hesitantly pulling it out. Once the contents of the bag reached the light, I bit back a scream and dropped it, the bag hitting the road with a soft  _ squish. _

Inside the bag appeared to be several strands of long, black hair, what appeared to be a glass eye, a little hand stitched doll with a needle stabbing through its stomach, a box of matches, a black candle that was melted down to a stub, and a congealed red liquid that looked far too similar to blood for my taste.

“This has to be some kind of prank,” I muttered to myself. “C’mon North, get a grip. You’re fine. It’s fine. It’s probably just one of the neighbor kids trying to scare you. Don’t be such a pussy.”

Crouching down, I picked up the bag and examined it closer.  _ Whoever did this musta done their research. This looks like real voodoo shit. Creepy. _ The doll, upon a second glance, almost seemed to resemble my older sister, Bella. She was off at college, though, so I didn’t know why they would send it here. If it was their intent to scare her, they got the wrong person.

Shrugging, I reached in the mailbox to grab the handful of envelopes that were still waiting inside.  _ Junk, junk, bills, junk, letter to me… wait. A letter? To me? No one ever sends me mail. Huh. _

Jogging inside, I tossed the mail on the counter before leaning against the kitchen island and tearing the envelope open. As soon as I broke the seal, I felt the bag begin to grow warmer in my hand, but ignored it.  _ Probably just imagining things. Stupid paranoia. _ Opening the letter, I began to read.

“‘North Prythio, I’m sorry for what I had to do. I’m sorry for what you are about to see. We made a horrible mistake and now it’s too late. I never wanted this to happen. I never wanted to kill them. I’m so sorry for what we have done and what we are about to do. There is nothing I can do to stop this. It’s too late. I hope that you can forgive me. I’m sorry for all that you have lost. Signed, Anonymous’.”

Blinking at the letter, my brain struggled and failed to comprehend what on earth this person was talking about.  _ What the hell do they mean? ‘Kill them? Kill who? _ Examining the letter closely, I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary about it. The paper looked a bit old and faded, but that didn’t mean much. The letter appeared to be typed, which was a bit odd, but it wasn’t much stranger than receiving a letter in the first place. _I mean, c’mon. A letter? 1960s much?_ Still, something felt off, and not just about the contents of the letter itself. Grabbing the envelope, I noticed that there was no return address or stamp.  _ How on earth did they get this mailed here? Unless… _ I felt a shiver trail down my spine.  _ Unless they delivered it themselves. In person. _ Fake or not, the idea of somebody coming by and sticking  _ this _ in my mailbox made my stomach twist in fear.

“Ow!” I cried, dropping the bag onto the island. Looking at my fingertips, I found them bright red. The bag had been growing hotter by the second without my realizing and had burnt the skin right off my fingers. Wincing, I rushed over to the sink and turned on cold water, running my fingertips under it as I cursed under my breath. Once the pain had dulled to a throbbing ache, I dried off my hand and went to grab some ointment and bandages.

“What the hell is going on here?” I mumbled to myself. “What was that all about? What does this all mean?”

After I had taken care of my hand, I began walking back downstairs when I realized something.  _ Where are Mom and Dad? _

Mom was always home when I came home from school. I never even brought a key anymore because she was always there. The door had been unlocked when I came home, and her car was in the driveway, but I hadn’t heard her once in the hour and a half I’d been home. Dad got off work at 4:30. He should have been on his way home by now, and yet I hadn’t received a call from him asking me to preheat the oven or set out the dishes. It was then that I realized.  _ Something is very wrong here. _

“Mom?” I called, waiting to see if I heard her.

Silence.

“Mom? Where are you?”

Nothing.

“Mom! This isn’t funny!”

A slight creak echoed down the hall. It sounded like it came from her bedroom. My breath caught in my throat, I quietly began to walk over there. For some reason, I couldn’t make myself speak, couldn’t make myself move faster, couldn’t do anything but creep down the hall, knowing instinctively that I needed to be quiet, even though I didn’t know why. All I knew was:  _ something is very wrong here. _

Reaching her bedroom, I nudged the door open, flinching at how it creaked, breaking the wall of silence that had fallen over the house. Peeking in the door, I forgot completely about that bond of silence as a scream of horror forced its way out my throat. My mother hung there; her eyes bulging out of her skull as she stared sightlessly at the wall, her, long, black hair hanging like a curtain in front of her face, her loose white dress fluttering from an invisible breeze that I couldn’t feel, her neck broken, bent at an odd angle as a noose of human hair strangled her.

I felt sick.

Backing out of the room, I choked back a sob as my back hit the wall. Sliding to the floor, I pulled my knees to my chest, shaking violently as tears trailed down my cheeks.  _ Oh God. No. Nonononononono. This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening. _

I heard the door open downstairs, followed with a loud _bang._ _Dad! Dad can fix this. Dad’ll know what to do._

I rushed down the stairs.

“Dad! Dad, I need your help! Dad, it’s Mom. She-” I felt my throat close up. “No,” I whispered, my voice hoarse. “No. God, please no. Nonononono! Dad?”

He was lying on the floor, his back braced against the wall. There was a gun in his hand, a thin wisp of smoke still drifting from its muzzle. His hand was spattered with flecks of blood, but that was nothing compared to the enormous swath of blood that flowed down his cheek, staining the collar of his neatly pressed blue shirt. It was nothing compared to the blood that was splattered across the wall from where the bullet cut through his flesh, nothing compared to the bloody, gaping hole that once held his eye, now holding the bullet that had ended his life.

“What… what is happening?” I whispered. “Why is this happening? I don’t… why?”

I was shaking violently now, barely able to stay on my feet. I felt sick to my stomach, but I wouldn’t throw up. Not now. I needed to figure out what was going on. My head was spinning. Everything hurt. I didn’t know what was happening to my family.  _ Please, just let this be a bad dream. Let me wake up tomorrow and find out everything is okay. I just want everything to be okay. I want things to go back to normal.  _ But still, I couldn’t shake the feeling settling deep in the pit of my stomach.  _ Something is very wrong here. _

_ Bella, _ I thought numbly.  _ Have to check on Bella. _

Reaching into my pocket, I managed to grab my phone even with the weird static buzzing in my head. Everything felt so weird, almost fuzzy.  _ Is this what dissociating is like? _ I wondered.

Clicking on her contact, I held my phone to my ear and waited, my heart hammering in my throat.  _ Pick up. Pick up Bella. Pick up Bella. Pick up Bella. Pick up Be- _

“H-hello?” a raspy voice responded.

“Bella? Is that you?”

“Nn-North… I’m so-sorry.”

“What?” My heart skipped a beat. “What are you talking about? Why are you sorry?”

“My f-fault. I’m ss-sorry.”

“Bella, what the hell is going on? Talk to me, please,” I begged.

“Too late. G-got mixed up… bad people… mistake… I’m sorry… All my fault…” Her voice was broken up by static. I couldn’t make out all the words.

“What? Bella, I can’t hear you. Where are you right now? Are you on campus?”

“Ss-sorry… my mistake… mm-my fault… p-please forgive…”

The phone went silent.

“Hello?”

Nothing.

“Bella?”

Only static.

“Bella, answer me! Please!”

Silence.

“B-Bella…” I choked back a sob. “Bella!”

A laugh. It was cold, rough, almost staticky.

“H-hello? Bella?” I whispered, my heart in my throat.

“She’s gone,” the voice said.

Then I heard a scream, and they hung up.

I dropped my phone.

“No. Nononononono. NO!” I screamed. “This can’t be happening! This can’t be happening! This can’t be happening! Wake up! Wake up! Wakeupwakeupwakeupwakeup! WAKE UP!”

I hit my head with my hands, trying to snap out of whatever hellish dimension I was trapped in, but it was no good. If this was a nightmare, I wasn’t going to be waking up anytime soon.  _ This is it. This is real. There’s nothing more to it. This… this is real. _ I fell to my knees, bowing my head and letting the tears fall.  _ I lost everything. Everything. It’s all gone. I have nothing left. _ In the midst of the strange, fuzzy static that filled my head, I found silence. Suddenly, I knew exactly what I had to do.

Getting to my feet, I trudged through the living room and kitchen before stepping out into the backyard.

_ No, stop. _

I opened the shed and stepped inside.

_ This is wrong. _

Digging around the piles of yard supplies, I found the bottle of gasoline.

_ You don’t want this. _

Grabbing the gas, I walked back inside the house.

_ They wouldn’t have wanted this. _

Stopping by the kitchen island, I pulled the box of matches from the bag. It wasn’t hot anymore. It felt cool to the touch.

_ Don’t do this. _

Walking around the house, I poured gasoline in every room, dousing everything in preparation.

_ Stop, please. _

Finally reaching the living room, I took the remaining gasoline and poured it over my head.

_ You can’t do this. _

Taking the box of matches, I struck one across the matchbox.

_ North, don’t do this. _

The flame flickered before my eyes.

_ You know this is wrong. _

I let go of the match, watching it fall to the gasoline-soaked carpet below.

_ NO! STOP! _

And watched the fire spread until it consumed everything. I became one with the flame, and suddenly, I was free.

By the time the fire department arrived to put out the flame, everything had been turned to ash. They didn’t find my body, or Mom’s, or Dad’s. They didn’t find my cell phone or the anonymous letter. They didn’t find the evidence of what I had done. The only thing that had survived the flames had been a ziplock bag that held a couple strands of long, black hair, a glass eye, a handmade doll, a box of matches, a pool of dried blood, and a black candle.


End file.
